


A Bushel And A Peck

by leiascully



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, OT3Tropetober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26855872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: Hardison works hard on their aliases.  This one: Eliot owns an apple orchard.
Relationships: Alec Hardison & Parker & Eliot Spencer, Alec Hardison/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 30
Kudos: 76





	A Bushel And A Peck

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: post-series  
> A/N: I could not resist. Title's from an old song my mom used to sing to me.

_"What the hell is this?" Eliot asked, but he took the folder Hardison was handing him._

_"Flavor," Hardison said. "Background. Worldbuilding. Just read it, okay? I spend a lot of damn time on these aliases. You need to know who you are if we have to deploy them."_

_Eliot flipped through the file. "Why is there a picture of me holding a basket of apples?"_

_"Just read it!" Hardison said._

Jeremiah Atherton, Jem to absolutely everyone or suffer the consequences, stood at the booth at the entrance to his family's orchard. Momma and Pops had finally taken the plunge and bought a place down in Florida for the winter. The days were still sunlit and warm, but the nights were getting nippy, and they'd headed south a few weeks ago, promising to be back in the spring. They'd earned it, he thought. He smiled at the pretty blonde beside him - he'd known Heather since they were kids, even babysat her a few times when their parents went out and did stuff together. She made the best apple cider doughnuts in the county, and her pies were melt-in-your-mouth good. Their families had worked together a long time. It was a solid partnership, kind of part of his inheritance, and only he knew if he had a couple of soft thoughts about her every one in a while. 

_"Is that supposed to be Parker?" Eliot asked._

_"Yes, it's Parker," Hardison said._

_"Apple orchard, huh," Eliot said. "Kinda...not very tough. Why can't I run cattle?"_

_"Damn, Eliot, do you know the kind of effort it takes to keep a small operation running in this economy?" Hardison scowled. "Cows take care of themselves. Trees don't. Also you can't run cattle like that in New England."_

_"Huh," Eliot said, and went back to the file._

"Think it's gonna be a good weekend?" Jem asked her. 

Heather grinned. "It's always a good weekend in the orchard." She gestured around her. "Sun's out. Nice and cool. People are gonna come pick a ton of apples and eat a bunch of doughnuts." 

"And they'll drink cider," Jem told her, hefting a gallon jug in each hand. "Don't forget about the cider."

"I never could," Heather promised.

"It's farm fresh," he said.

"Honey, I know," she said, putting her hand over his. "Why do you think I started making doughnuts? I wanted to get out of cider pressing."

"'Scuse me," somebody said. They looked up to see a very tall, very handsome Black man dressed in a v-neck sweater that clung to the muscles of his chest, an expensive coat, and a scarf. 

_"Uh huh," Eliot said. I see you."_

_"What?" Hardison asked, all innocence._

"Hey, man, what can I do for you?" Jem said. 

"I'm here to pick apples," the guy said. "I kinda thought that was what people did here?"

"Weren't you here last weekend?" Heather asked suddenly. She leaned her elbow on the counter and cupped her chin in her hand. "You were. You bought a dozen doughnuts and a half-gallon of cider."

The guy smiled at her. "Good memory. I was, and I did. But you make a couple of pies and a batch of applesauce and boom, you need more apples."

"And the weekend before that," Heather said. 

"I...like apples?" the guy said.

"We should make you a punch card or something," Jem teased. "Tell you what." He took one of the orchard's business cards from a rack and scribbled on the back of it. "Come four weekends and I'll give you a free peck the fifth time." He held out the card, and the guy took it and looked at it fondly before he tucked it in his pocket. 

"Deal," the guy said. 

"Take a doughnut," Heather urged, wrapping one in a napkin as Jem pulled a basket off the stack and put it on the counter. "On me. You'll need your energy."

"Thanks," the guy said. He smiled at them as he took the basket and the doughnut. 

"Hey, man, what's your name?" Jem called.

"Alistair," the guy said. "Alistair Weaver."

_"What are you in this fantasy, some kind of fancy city lawyer?" Eliot asked._

_"Well, yeah," Hardison said. "That's kind of how it works."_

Alistair did come back the next weekend, and then the weekend after that. They had a nice conversation every time Alistair showed up at the booth, which he did more and more often, coming back for a refreshing glass of cider or one of Heather's sandwiches or a bag of cinnamon almonds. Jem found he was looking forward to seeing him. This time, Alistair was in a more casual outfit: a fleece and fitted jeans. He looked good, sophisticated in a kind of way Jem couldn't pull off. 

"Can't resist that free peck, huh?" Jem teased. 

"Not when you've got the best apples in the state," Alistair said, and grinned.

"Did you know a peck can also be a quick kiss?" Heather said suddenly. "Usually on the cheek, but sometimes on the lips." They both looked at her.

"She's just kind of like that," Jem told Alistair. "Says things."

"I get it," Alistair said. 

"He owes you a peck," Heather insisted. "Come on, Jemothy. Cough up."

"That's not my name," Jem mumbled. 

"Hey, if it'll make you happy," Alistair said. He leaned over the counter and presented his cheek to Jem. 

"Uh," Jem said. 

"We'll both do it," Heather said. "Ready, Jem?" She pushed herself up on the counter and gave Alistair a dry little kiss on the cheek. Jem didn't move.

"I get it," Alistair said, winking at Jem. "You're a big talker. You talk the talk, but you don't peck the peck."

"I do," Jem insisted, and he leaned in and gave Alistair a quick kiss, barely brushing his lips over Alistair's warm, freshly shaved skin. Alistair smelled really good, honestly. It kinda made Jem tingly inside. He wanted to press his nose against Alistair's neck and just breathe him in. 

"Now that's customer service," Alistair said. He took his basket and the doughnut Heather had insisted on giving him again. He grinned at them. "See you in a couple of hours."

"A guy like that doesn't drive out from the city every weekend just because he likes our apples," Heather told him. "He likes you." 

"Maybe he likes you," Jem said. 

Heather shrugs. "Everybody likes me. He likes you especially. I've seen the way he looks at you."

Jem squinted at her. "I don't think so." But he was definitely waiting for Alistair to come back, he realized, as he weighed people's baskets of apples and took their money. His heart jumped around a little when he saw Alistair approaching, or maybe that was his stomach. He'd stress-eaten a couple of doughnuts between customers. He snuck a glance at Heather, but she was busy, thank heavens. He'd had enough of her help for one day.

"Hey, man," he said as Alistair handed the basket over. 

"Hey yourself," Alistair said, smiling sweetly. Jem ducked his face to hide the fact that he was blushing a little. Alistair leaned on the counter. "About earlier...I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. Seemed like kind of a joke between you and Heather, you know? I was just trying to play along."

"What, the kiss?" Jem said airily, pretending like it hadn't meant anything to him. "Nah. Heather's like that. She likes to meddle. Don't ever play Truth or Dare with her. I'll give you that one for free."

"Oh, that was a kiss to you?" Alistair joked. "Damn, I guess it's a good thing I never asked for your number."

"No, it wasn't..." Jem started and then squinted at Alistair. "I gave you my number. It's on the business card. You could have called any time. If, uh, you wanted to call. For whatever reason." 

"I didn't think that was your personal number," Alistair said. "Besides, I was kind of busy this week. Had to rush to finish all the work for a big trial so I could come out here today. Then I find out if I did call you and ask you out, the kiss I'm gonna get at the end of the date is a peck on the cheek."

"That's not how I kiss," Jem protested. 

Alistair raised one eyebrow and smirked. 

"Not on a date, anyway," Jem mumbled. He felt half-hypnotized by the warmth in Alistair's deep voice and dark eyes.

"Tell you what," Alistair said. "I'll come back next week and you can prove it. When does the orchard close?"

"Seven," Jem said. 

Alistair nodded. "I'll make reservations for eight. Where's good around here?"

"My place," Jem said boldly. "Not a better cook in the county."

"It's a date," Alistair said. He checked his watch. "Hey, let me pay you for those apples." Jem startled out of his daze and started bagging them up.

"You leaving already?" Heather said, finally disentangled from her customers. She started putting doughnuts and a half-dozen hand pies into a box. "Aww, Alistair. I feel like I barely saw you."

"Don't you worry," Alistair said. "I'll see you both next weekend." He took the apples and the bakery box and handed over some cash. 

_"Y'ain't that slick, ace," Eliot said, but he said it fondly. He reached over and patted Hardison's knee._

_"You wanna put together the aliases, be my guest," Hardison said, tapping at his keyboard and frowning at his screen. He softened up enough to smile at Eliot._

The date went well. Really well, actually. Jem had made dessert to go with the simple bread and stew he'd prepared, but dessert had to wait while he proved to Alistair that hell yeah, he kissed better than a peck on the cheek. Alistair made it back to his AirBnB that night, but after the next couple of weekends, he stopped bothering to book one, and they started waking up cuddled together on crisp Sunday mornings. Honestly, their relationship was pretty perfect: Alistair worked in the city in the week and came out on the weekends. Sometimes he even helped in the orchard, though operations were winding down and Jem was shifting to pumpkins, the corn maze, and hay rides, motorized and unmotorized. 

"It's not like work at all," he said, standing in the front booth with Heather while Jem tinkered around in the engine of the old farm truck they used for hay rides sometimes. "Work is all research and computers and suits and yelling. This is peaceful. There's fresh air. People are happy to see me." 

"I'm happy to see you," Heather told him. He put his arm around her companionably. Jem grinned at both of them. He looked down at his stomach. 

"Aw, hell," he said. "Got grease all over my t-shirt." He shrugged off his overshirt and reached down and stripped off his t-shirt. He put his overshirt back on and started to do up the buttons.

"WAIT," Heather yelled. She ran to the house and came back with a glass, which she filled with cider and handed to Jem. "Alistair! Do you have your phone on you? Take a picture!" 

"Way ahead of you, H," Alistair said, coming up and crouching. "Jem, baby, strike a pose on that hay bale."

"This is dumb," Jem said.

"It's absolutely not," Alistair said. "I've got a buddy in advertising and we're gonna use this to make an ad campaign for the orchard. Double your business easy."

"We're going to sell so much cider!" Heather said excitedly, clasping her hands together. 

_"Now that's too much," Eliot said._

_"You wanna see the cider ad campaign or not?" Hardison asked._

_"...yeah," Eliot said._

_"Back page," Hardison said, still staring into his screen. Eliot flipped through. He had to admit, Hardison had done a hell of a job. He didn't remember lying half-shirtless on a hay bale at any point, but looking at the photos, maybe he'd just forgotten. Hardison asked him to do a lot of stuff that seemed foolish at the time, and Eliot tried to forget it._

_"Are we gonna use this any time soon?" he asked._

_"You never know," Hardison said mysteriously._

_"I know," Parker said, coming down from the ceiling. "And I like it. So maybe."_

_"Well," Eliot said. "Could be worse."_

_"I know you know how good you've got it," Hardison told him._

_"Really good," Parker agreed._

_"Really good," Eliot said, nodding along. He grinned at them. "The best."_

_"And don't you forget it," Parker told him. "Let's go find some cider doughnuts. I need to know what those are."_

_"Let's do it," Eliot said, and together they pried Hardison away from his computer and went to find an orchard._


End file.
